Page 64 of Cast to be Mine

“Lovely isn’t good enough.” Chantilly’s voice could have cut glass. “My husband is the star of this production. He requires accommodations befitting his status.”

I watched the drama unfold with amusement. Jack stood slightly behind his wife, letting her do all the heavy lifting while he checked his phone. Classic.

“Perhaps the presidential suite?” the manager suggested weakly. “It’s our finest accommodation. Private lanai and panoramic ocean views.”

“Is anyone else staying in a presidential suite?” Chantilly asked in a haughty tone.

“No, ma’am. It’s our only one.”

Chantilly smiled like a cat who’d caught a particularly fat canary. “Perfect. We’ll take it.”

I caught Micah glancing over his shoulder at me. He’d clearly been eavesdropping on the whole exchange while pretending to focus on the check-in process. When our eyes met, his lips twitched. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

He rolled his eyes so subtly that only I would have caught it. I made a face. We didn’t need words. We both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

God, I loved that. The silent communication. The shared jokes that didn’t require any words. It felt intimate in a way that actual conversations sometimes didn’t.

Eventually, miraculously, everyone got sorted. Patty appeared at my elbow with a keycard and a relieved expression.

“You’re in suite 847,” she said. “Ocean view, private balcony. I had your bags sent up already.”

“Suite?” I blinked at her. “I don’t need a suite.”

“You’re the female lead, Ms. Stone. You get a suite.” She patted my arm like I was a confused child. “It’s in your contract.”

Right. I kept forgetting I wasn’t playing a corpse anymore. I took the keycard and made my way to the elevators, weaving through the crowd of crew members still milling around the lobby. The elevator was blissfully empty. I leaned against the wall and let out a long breath.

Suite 847 was gorgeous. Spacious living area with a plush sectional. King-sized bed that felt like a cloud. And the view was spectacular. I stepped out onto the balcony and just stood there, letting the ocean breeze wash over me.

And I was thinking about Micah beside me appreciating the view. His own patio provided a similar view, but this was Hawaii. It was prettier. Intoxicating. I needed to leave him alone tonight. He had a million things to handle before tomorrow’s call time. I was not going to be the distraction that derailed his carefully planned schedule.

I was going to be professional. Focused. A good colleague who respected boundaries and understood priorities. Shower, eat, and go to bed at a reasonable hour like a responsible adult.

Tomorrow was going to be intense. I wouldn’t just be competing for screen time against my fellow actors. I had to compete with the scenery. The scenes required me to be at my absolute best. I needed rest. I needed to be sharp.

After about an hour of lying on that cloud of a bed, staring at the ceiling and definitely not thinking about Micah, I was restless. And hungry. The granola bar I’d scarfed down on the plane had long since abandoned me.

Room service felt too predictable. Too boring. I was in Hawaii, for God’s sake. I should be eating something authentic, not some overpriced hotel burger that tasted the same as every other overpriced hotel burger I’d ever had.

I threw on some clothes and sandals and headed down to the lobby. The chaos from earlier had mostly settled. A few crew members were scattered around the bar area, but the frantic energy had dissipated into something more relaxed.

The concierge was a young guy with a warm smile and a name tag that read “Kai.” He looked up as I approached.

“Aloha! How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for good local food,” I said. “Not tourist stuff. Something authentic. Preferably something I can get delivered.”

His face lit up. “Oh, you want Auntie Lani’s. Best poke on the island. She doesn’t do delivery usually, but…” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Tell her Kai sent you. She’ll make an exception.”

He scribbled a phone number on a piece of hotel stationery and handed it to me. “Trust me.”

I called the number and placed an order, double everything, telling myself it was because I’d want leftovers tomorrow.

That was a lie. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Forty minutes later, I was standing in the lobby with two massive bags of food that smelled absolutely incredible. My stomach growled way too loudly.

I should just go back to my room. Eat this feast alone on my balcony while watching the sunset. That would be the smart thing to do.